


Mine He Cannot Miss

by angelheadedhipster



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: M/M, i've got erik/charles feelings for days and no where to put them, james mcavoy's hair, sad hotel room feelings, telepathy or the lack thereof, this is so old its barely relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster
Summary: The hotel room in Paris, 1973. The night before the day that would change everything, Erik and Charles remember what was.





	Mine He Cannot Miss

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back when Days of Future Past came out in 2014 and then never posted it because I'm terrible and because it wasn't QUITE right. It still isn't but I"m trying to be less perfectionist and better at posting my shit so here it is!

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,  
By just exchange one for the other given:  
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;  
There never was a bargain better driven.  
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,  
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;  
He loves my heart for once it was his own;  
I cherish his because in me it bides.  
His heart his wound receivèd from my sight;  
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;  
For as from me on him his hurt did light,  
So still methought in me his hurt did smart:  
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,  
My true love hath my heart and I have his.  
~ Sir Philip Sidney

_Paris, 1973_

Erik sat on the bed in his hotel room, his eyes closed, his mind turned inward. Tomorrow would be difficult. He didn't want to do this, didn’t want to kill her, but no one else would. Raven was a danger. Mystique. Mystique was a danger.

He didn’t realize he was listening for a sound at the door until he heard it, but when he did he felt his shoulders relax, a breath go out of him. Charles...even now, he wasn't sure where they stood. Ten years was a long time. Charles was so angry - that was usually Erik, that anger, that rage. He didn't know how to respond except to get angry too, and yet...to be that close to Charles and not touch had hurt. From the moment he’d seen him, it had hurt.

When he opened his eyes Charles was still in the doorway, and Erik thought come in before he remembered the other man wouldn't be able to hear him. Something moved in his stomach, a pang for what they had lost.

"Come in," said Erik, out loud, and his voice sounded rusty.

Charles walked towards him, long legs and pale skin, his eyes so open in his face. Even now, he looked at Erik like Erik was a joy, a present, a treat for him and him alone. Even now.

But then there was a shift, a change. Charles’s eyes hooded, like a hawk. They were darker now, blanker. This was a different Charles. Erik had done that.

"I wanted...I wasn't sure you..." Charles said, and he stopped, stood a few inches away from Erik's legs, looking down at him. The hooded eyes lifted, a bit, and underneath Charles looked uncertain, lost. His lips were barely parted. Erik had no idea what the other man was thinking, and it pained him. Like he was looking at a paper cutout of his Charles, rather than the full person.

"Come here," he said, and he was reaching for Charles as the other man moved towards him, his eyes looking down but his hands grabbing at hips as he sank down, a groan escaping from one of them, he wasn't even sure which. Their lips met, hard and fast, kissing each other with closed mouths, just reveling in the contact. He could feel the quicksilver pulse in Charles’s lips, felt his eyelashes, softer and gentler than Erik could imagine, flutter against his cheek. Charles’ arms were wrapped around him, one on his neck and one running down his spine, tracing patterns and words they hadn't said to each other in so long. It felt like coming home, like returning to the body where he was born. Like a relief.

Charles, he thought, and then he let go, his thoughts a torrent of _so good I missed you yes please kiss me harder oh good you YOU._

But there was no response, nothing but quiet in his own head. A blank wall. The same unrelenting darkness behind his eyes that he always faced.

Charles backed away, one hand skimming lower down Erik's back, the other coming around to his face, touching and tracing his kiss-swollen lips. He was straddling Erik now, pressed close against him.

"I don't know if I've ever wanted my powers back more than when I first saw you," Charles said. Out loud. He said it out loud. "Standing there, under the sprinklers, seeing you for the first time in so long. I wanted to freeze Hank and Peter so badly, so I could ravage you against the wall of that elevator." He was smiling, looking at Erik with affection. Affection Erik knew he didn’t deserve.

"Instead you punched me," Erik said, one eyebrow quirking up.

Charles snickered, pulling his finger across Erik's cheek, the skin moving around the pressure. "It seemed the next best thing," he said. "And you can't say you didn't deserve it."

Erik did, of course, deserve it, and more besides. And Charles deserved a few punches of his own. Their eyes met, and even without telepathy they had a conversation, thoughts flowing between them - anger and resentment, the same old fights and now a host of new ones, and the mutual desire to have this moment, to put those things aside and have what they both had wanted for so long.

Erik took a hand off Charles's waist, threading his fingers through Charles’s long, lanky hair. "I've been wanting to do this since I saw you," he said, and talking with words still seemed artificial, strange. He tugged at Charles's hair, watched him wince, grinned, and tugged again, feeling the thin strands against his fingers.

"Oh, yes," said Charles. "The hair." He looked a bit sheepish. "You like it?"

"It's terrible," said Erik even as he pulled, firm but gentle. Charles's head tipped back, exposing a long white neck just begging for Erik’s mouth. He felt Charles moan under him as he traced his tongue down his windpipe, feeling a pulse jump in the hollow of his throat.

There was a beat of silence, and Erik looked up, at Charles, whose eyes were darker now. He looked like he was concentrating, and his fingers flickered, up to the side of his face. As Erik watched, a look of hopelessness spread over the other man’s face.

"You forgot," said Erik, his hand dropping to his own lap. "Tried to say it..." and he tapped his temple.

"Yes," Charles said. "It’s been a long time....I don't try to do that anymore, most of the time.”

There was a silence in the room, pregnant and dark. The hawk eyes were back, Charles’s face hooded, cloudy. Erik felt a pang - he’d made those clouded eyes, he was the darkness spreading across Charles’s open face.

“With you, I….” Charles spoke again, and trailed off again. His hands moved off of Erik. “Well. I guess I forgot. It has been awhile since we spoke.” His voice was becoming clipped again, the professional voice for the public that Erik had heard so many times, but never directed at him.

Both of Erik's hands were on his own thighs now, and Charles's rested on his shoulders. Erik looked down, looked at the freckles that peeked out from below the buttons of the other man's shirt.

"This...it’s not the same, is it?" Erik said. Charles’ face fell, his mouth opening and then closing again. Erik looked up at him, at that delicate face that he knew so well.

“It’s not,” Charles said. Brittle, and sharp. “I wanted it to be. I wanted to forget all this...all the shit, all the stuff you’ve done to me-”

“I’ve done, you-”

“I wanted one night. One night with you, like it was. Before you fucked it up,” Charles eyes were hard now, and he didn’t give Erik a chance to reply. “But it’s not like it was.”

“It’s still you but it feels...different,” Erik said.

"I know," Charles said, and his voice held years of resentment, of pain, of fear, and the fear of pain. “You...you can’t act like you don’t know this is your fault.”

It was his fault. There was nothing Erik could say to that. But they were here, and they...they wanted the same thing. In this, as in so few other things, they wanted the same thing.

"Can you..." Erik sighed. He knew the answer already, but he couldn't help it. He levitated the phone by the bed, just for something to do. Just to remind himself how much his own power was a part of him, how much it belonged to him. "Can you try?"

Charles's lashes flew up, briefly but dramatically. His eyes were so blue.

"It won't...I do try. I know it won't work. There's...where there once was sound there is only silence. I feel nothing now ... I mean- I would know if I could feel you, and I can't."

_I feel nothing now_. It echoed in the space between them.

"I'm sorry," Charles said. "It's this," and he tapped his temple, the spot where he always made contact in the past, "or this," and he squeezed his legs around Erik, too much, too tight. It hurt. Charles pushed closer to him, making his skin ache and the heat in his stomach rise again.

_And its your fault_ , Charles didn't say.

Erik heard it anyway, and choose not to respond. He traced a finger up Charles's stomach, unbuttoning his shirt, one by one, revealing pale skin and wisps of hair underneath.

"We'll just have to say out loud all the things we used to think," Charles said, a hint of his old smirk returning, but it was paler, sadder.

Erik chuckled, but he knew he was forcing it, and grabbed Charles's lips with his, wanting to lose himself in the moment.

They kissed, lips and tongue, soft and sweet and then harder, hands exploring and finding sensitive spots long remembered. Erik wanted to say something, to ask for more, hands and pressure and weight, but to speak was to pull his mouth away from Charles, to put space between them.

And it wasn't just the mind-to-mind talking. Which was nice, that was convenient. But they could live without that. It was...

"This isn't you," Erik said, out loud, and knew he would never be able to take it back.

Charles looked stunned, as if he'd slapped him. His face fell. “Erik, that’s...I’m not just telepathy, I can’t...even you should-”

"I know, I want - I want to be lost in you," Erik cut him off. Saying it out loud hurt, but it was the truth.

Charles sighed, and pulled his hands away from Erik’s hips. “I’m still me,” he said.

"It's like … its you. I want you. But it’s not the same as it was," said Erik.

"I know," said Charles. "This isn't you, either. Without your mind I can't..."

Sex between them had always been connection, a swirl of emotions and thoughts and ideas and images. Without that extra connection, Charles was just a body. A beautiful one, his lips even fuller than Erik remembered, the stubble and hair accentuating his fragile lines, but it was empty. A beautiful body, but not his.

"You did this," Charles said, and his eyes were cold. “Don’t forget. I want you, too. I thought maybe...I thought we could pretend. But you can’t - you can’t give me this, even this one thing, after all you took.” He climbed off Erik and turned away, back to the door.

"No, stay," Erik said.

Charles turned around, his eyes confused. Erik saw a frisson of effort pass through the skin on his forehead - he was trying to read Erik, of course. He didn't understand.

"Stay with me," Erik said. "This - this is something I want, too. You, here. We won't...I just...I can do that. I want to."

It might just be Charles's body, and he couldn't dive into it without feeling the absence of all that was, but he wanted him nearby. Wanted to remember what he was missing.

"Of course," Charles said, and slid next to him.

They sat side by side, and then they lay side by side, and somewhere in there, somehow, despite everything, Erik slept.


End file.
